Death And Where It Leads
by Revontuli
Summary: Renée Dwyer quietly passed away in the loving arms of her family in Florida on 11/4/2039.
1. A Much Loved Daughter

**But time is not given  
****And time is not taken  
It just sifts through its sift  
**_**--Regina Spekor, Buildings**_

_------_

_DWYER (Renée)_

_Quietly passed away in the loving arms of her family in Florida on 11/4/2039  
__The late Mrs. Renée Dwyer leaves behind a caring husband and a much-loved daughter.  
__She will be forever remembered most keenly as our sunshine in the darkest of days.  
__Rest in peace, Renée. You will be missed._

Can death be prepared for?

"I'm so sorry," Edward whispered, burying his face in my hair. He inhaled my scent and nudged the hollow behind my ear, while at the same time his hands wandered from my shoulders to my hips, where they then rested and held me in support.

I was only vaguely aware of his movements. My reaction to his caresses was passive.

I thought I'd been prepared. I thought I'd understood the consequences of running off with a vampire. I thought that once the time would come to say goodbye, I'd be able to hear the news and accept it, the way most daughters do when their old mothers pass away.

But I couldn't. I was not prepared.

My mother wasn't even old. I'd called her on her birthday last month when she'd turned seventy-one. The thought that she might not live to experience her next birthday had never occurred to me.

_The late Mrs. Renée Dwyer leaves behind a caring husband and a much-loved daughter._

My eyes ached when they roamed over the short line of the death notice. It described the path of life I'd chosen too well to be of any condolence – or coincidence. I was sure that if Renée could read it, she would have the adjectives changed.

Phil was described as the caring husband. I was the much-loved daughter.

In other words, Phil gave Renée his love, and I only received it.

Why was I not the caring daughter? Of course I'd been distant ever since my wedding with Edward. Of course she hadn't seen me for years. But that didn't mean I didn't actively love her, did it?

Lately I'd been starting to forget the times I'd shared with my mother. It was only bits and pieces that had gone missing first, but now my memory of those sunny days in Phoenix was cast over by a large, dark shadow. I was ashamed to admit that I'd been permitting myself to forget, that I'd been too tired to remind myself of the importance of remembering…

But still, I was more than just the much-loved daughter. I had to be.

"Love?"

Edward was growing restless now. He stepped in front of me and held my face in his hands, forcing me to look up into his eyes. I saw my reflection in them – the corners of my lips that were pulled down, the creases on my forehead, the expression on my frozen face. I was still clutching the death notice. I wasn't about to let it go.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Edward asked, a similar expression to mine taking over his features. I suddenly felt guilty for giving him this pain.

"The death notice," I told him, trying to lessen his grief for my own unhappiness, "Read it."

He gently picked the piece of paper from my hand and read through it, taking longer than he should in an attempt to show me how seriously he took my sorrow. My heart swelled with love for him, but I did not manage a smile.

"Is there something unusual I should see here?" he finally asked, looking very apologetic.

I reached for the paper and he handed it to me at once, once again placing his hands on my hips. I ignored the gesture and pointed at the wounding line.

"_'The much-loved daughter'_. That's all I was to her in the end, Edward. A daughter that had ceased to love her, but who'd never stopped being loved."

I stopped when I saw Edward's face freeze into a mask of sadness. I realized a second too late what my words were doing to him – they were stirring anew the waters of his guilt that I had taken years to bury beneath my eternal love. Guilt for taking me away from my family where he believed I belonged.

The instinct to end his pain rose over my own, and I hurriedly placed my hands around his head and leaned in for a sustained kiss which he returned first with hesitance, then with pure passion. Lust was always the best form of consolation, I had found.

It was only when Edward started tugging at my clothes that I was forced to end our ferocious kiss.

"Not now," I explained when he raised his eyebrow in silent question to my rejection.

I had other matters to attend to.

For one, I needed to make sure my mother got a decent funeral. Her pension fund would not allow for a too fancy fest, and though I did not intend to make a big show out of her death, I had the means to make her funeral into something that she'd have enjoyed. It had to be something simple but classy, serious but not all too severe. If there was one thing I remembered about Renée it was her playfulness, and I was determined not to let that character trait be forgotten at her last memorial service.

Even if I'd only been the much-loved daughter in the last of her years, I wouldn't allow that mistake to continue to her afterlife. Wherever my mother was, she would look down on me and be proud, and I'd prove to her that I'd loved her, regardless of the many years I'd spent avoiding her.

And above all I hoped that wherever she was, she would finally understand.


	2. An Endless Ocean In a Bowl

**I was sleeping by the wasteside of tomorrow  
But its better than sleeping by the wasteside of today  
All the barbershops and funeral-homes were open  
And the customers were coming and the business was doing great**

_**-- Regina Spektor, Wasteside**_

_------_

I tentatively made my way to the back row of the small chapel, keeping my head down and my face hidden behind a veil of hair. My arms huddled the black, austere dress I was wearing. Each movement around me caught my eye as I worried over each person in the room – would someone recognize me?

But as I scrutinized the different gloomy faces I noticed that I didn't recognize many of them at all. Was my memory really that faulty, or had Renée's old friends all abandoned her? Another surge of pain and regret washed over me as I realized that my mother might have been more alone than I'd thought.

I couldn't keep my eyes on the others for long. One object acted like a strong magnet, succeeding to attract my attention time after time again.

It was a sleek, black casket that adorned the middle of the altar.

I hated the color. It was too dark, too ominous to be Renée's last bed on this side of the world. I'd requested a white one, but my decision was overruled by a defiant Phil who had controlled my every step during the process of organizing the funeral. Those few days had been frustrating, seeing as I couldn't show myself to anyone and had had to manage everything through the phone; Phil's disenchanted voice still echoed through my head every second of each day:

_"Your mother would want you to be there…"_

It was almost treachery to be there now that I'd assured him that I would not. My carefully thought-through explanations had been thrust at him through gritted teeth. I was a Cullen, after all. Secrecy went above everything else. Duty came first.

Still, I was breaking every unspoken Cullen rule by appearing at my biological mother's funeral. Even as I sat there, feeling wretched and criminal as I loitered in the back rows trying to appear as inconspicuous as possible, I couldn't help but think of my family at home that had put their trust in me only to be disappointed. They had appeared understanding and compliant, but I knew that more was brewing beneath their veneer. Rosalie at the very least would give me hell once I returned home and finished grieving.

But I couldn't bring myself to regret my decision.

I sat down in the furthest corner of the very last row and eyed the view before me. The black casket was thankfully enveloped by a whole assortment of flowers that granted the desolate view some color. White, amber, cyan, violet… I counted the different colors in my mind, thanking each of their donor's for giving my mother something to rejoice about in her burial.

A priest was already standing in front of the crowd, and I once again bemoaned that I had let Phil have his way on this one. Renée had never been religious. The new church she'd joined just before her death had been nothing more but another of her crazes, and I saw no reason why she should be buried here with all these unfamiliar people.

The middle-aged man coughed when the beginning of the service neared, and instantly the people began filling the few rows of seats that were lined neatly in front of the altar. The black-dressed individuals were alien to me. There were a few bobbing hats that I thought I could label with a name and a couple of frocks that somehow reminded me of long-forgotten days, but that was all. I could only hope these people didn't know each other any more than I did so they wouldn't notice the odd one out – me, of course.

I couldn't keep track of the words that the preacher spoke. They sounded strange to me, and I was sure my mother would have felt the same. Who was he to talk about a God that she had not believed in? How was he tied to Renée to give him the right to express his sorrow? My eyes shifted back and forth from the coffin to the stained glass windows that each represented a story from the bible. Had Renée known these stories?

I began reminiscing about the seventeen years I'd spent with my mother in Phoenix. I recalled the many times she'd patched me up after a fall, the teenage tantrums she'd put a stop to before they'd even began, and the tears she'd wiped away when my pet fishes had passed into the next world.

"Animal Paradise," she'd called it. "An endless ocean in a bowl".

As the ceremony dragged on I began recollecting much less blissful things. The many men she'd brought home and introduced as my new stepfather and whose names had slipped my mind long before my life as a vampire. The creditors I'd had to lie to while Renée cowered underneath her sheets in her bedroom. The novel sports and trends she'd intended to try when our money hardly sufficed for our everyday needs.

Just as I was attempting to tear my mind away from such painful avenues, a soft, deep voice from the row in front of me made me jump out of my skin.

"Bella?"

I froze, feeling a pair of inspecting eyes fixed upon my hidden face. I didn't dare to breathe, let alone look up. Who had identified me? My mind raced over my options as I tried to figure out how to snake myself out of this one.

"Is that really you, Bella?" the voice whispered again, this time causing some of the surrounding heads to turn. I flinched inertly; how long would it take for the whole party to take interest in the happenings of the back row?

The growing attention forced me to look up. Two bland, brown eyes that widened in disbelief met my gaze, and I gritted my teeth together when I realized who it was.

An aged Phil Dwyer stared at my face incredulously.

"Oh…," was all he managed to say as he took in my youthful appearance. His heartbeat quickened from one breath to the other.

"Isabella?" someone else asked from beside us, and dejection overwhelmed me as I grasped that my name was well known in my mother's social circles. How many stories had she recited about her only daughter?

How many times had they gossiped about how said daughter wouldn't appear at the funeral?

Before I could find the words to utter, Phil's heart started doing summersaults inside his chest and his breathing went from fast to raggedy when he started examining my features more closely. His gaze lingered on my ocher eyes for quite a while, and I knew that he'd already registered my pale skin. He'd have drawn conclusions by now, I noted fearfully. How long would it take him to combine my new looks with the boyfriend I'd run off with thirty years ago? How long would it take him to start screaming?

But just when I thought all hope was lost, the mention of Edward threw a new plan into my awareness.

"I'm not Bella," I lied, "I'm Renesmee Cullen."

Was I persuasive enough? Phil seemed to think so, I noticed with relief. I thanked my luck that none of my mother's friends knew what my renowned daughter looked like.

I smiled winningly, keeping my sharp, white teeth firmly hidden.

"My goodness, Renesmee…" Phil left his sentence unfinished again, but his heart thankfully calmed down a notch.

"My mother couldn't make it, but I happened to be in town and thought I'd stop by." When disapproval crossed Phil's face again, I hastily added, "But she sends her deepest condolences."

Phil seemed to accept the fact that I resembled Edward enough to be his daughter, and turned back to the preacher, finally resigned.

He couldn't keep his eyes away from me for long however, for he soon turned around again and whispered in a deep tone, "I have something for your mother."

His gray eyebrows furrowed.

Uneasily, I reached out for the envelope that he was presenting me in his wrinkled, worn-out hand. I took care to keep my cold skin far away from his touch.

"Thanks," I murmured, looking to the front again in the hopes of him following my lead. His gaze stayed on my figure for a few prolonged moments, but finally he sighed audibly and turned back to the preacher.

"And so it is important for us all to appreciate the friends that surround us throughout our lives. Cherish the time you have on this earth, my friends! Cherish your comrades! For it shouldn't be our funerals that show us who really cared…"

I pressed the envelope against my static chest. The scent of Renée floated in the air.


	3. Skeletons

**Down in Lexington they walk in new shoes stuck to aging feet  
And close their eyes and open  
And recognize the aging street  
And think about when things were right  
When they were young and veins were tight  
And if you are the ghost of Christmas past  
Then won't you stay the night**

_**--Regina Spektor, Ne Me Quitte Pas**_

------

I had to wait until luncheon before I dared to rip open the mysterious envelope I'd received from my stepfather.

Were I a human, my hands would have shaken critically when I carefully slashed open the top of the colorless paper. Now my white fingers were only very stiff and rigid.

I retreated behind an old oak, hoping that none of the funeral guests would grow too curious and follow me. With a quick assessment of the crowd, I assured myself that I had gone unnoticed and breathed out in relief. Opening this letter right now in public was risky, just like everything else about the funeral. I was putting my family to shame.

And yet I failed to care as I finally reached for the folded paper inside the envelope.

The paper felt thin between my fingers, like it would turn to ash at any given moment if I gripped it too hard. I was especially careful when I unfurled it, my eyes immediately jumping to the words written across the first page. I recognized the handwriting at once.

_My dear Bella,_ it said in the first line, _My most beloved daughter._

It couldn't be!

_I trust that if you've received this letter, our paths must have crossed at least once more before judgment day. That makes me happy, Bella. I'm glad you returned to say goodbye to your old mother. I hope that, wherever I may be, I will be able to look down on you and smile. I always told Phil you hadn't forgotten me. If you've received this letter, it means I was right._

And Phil had wanted to hand this to Renesmee! Did he know the contents? Had he thought that by giving me something in which my mother praised me for coming to her funeral, he could slap my disrespectful absence in my face? I sighed, now feeling even more convinced that my coming here had been the right thing. To hell with secrecy.

_I hope you aren't too sad about me passing away, Bella. We must all depart one day, mustn't we? Or almost all of us have to, at any rate. You should know._

I gasped.

_And there is more that you should know. That is why I'm writing this, Bella. That is the point of this letter. I must give you this knowledge, because the knowledge is what you deserve. It's what we both deserve, I suppose. It's what we both need._

_You see… goodness, I do not know where to start. In the beginning, I keep telling myself, but where is the beginning? Doubt doesn't come in an instant. It grows over several years._

_When you first started refusing to meet me in person, I thought it was just another teenage phase that would pass soon enough. But when it protracted over more than five years, I began to doubt your explanations – was it really your limited funds that kept you away from me? Were your numerous sicknesses really the true cause of your canceled visits?_

_You know me, Bella. When I get an idea into my head, I will pry around for weeks before I let the subject drop. So I tried everything I could think of, from hospitals to religious sects, and came back empty-handed. As you might imagine, at each let-down I grew more and more anxious for you. Sure, I could still call you and inquire about your day, but you were never much of a liar, dear. I knew something was wrong by your tone. Not only your tone, in fact, but by your voice, too. It was suddenly so musical…_

_Darling, I am not an idiot. I am not a blind fool. I am an anxious mother._

_That is my excuse for what I tried next. I hope you will forgive me for digging up skeletons that should have stayed buried in their closets forever. I'm sorry if I ruined your plans for me by being nosy. But what else was I supposed to do?_

No. I shook my head, trying to clear away all traces of anxiety that was suddenly flaring inside of me. I felt like a card house that had been pushed over, and now all the cards were stumbling down, collapsing into a heap of chaos…

_I went to the Quileutes, Bella._

Thirty years of Renée's oblivion turned into my own.

Why couldn't she steal from comic books the way I had?

_Please understand that I didn't go there with mythical creatures on my mind. I only remembered how you used to spend time with one of the boys from the reservation, Jacob Black. I thought you might have confided in a friend._

_I didn't meet Jacob there, however. They said he'd moved away._

_With the Cullens._

I sank to the ground and gripped the letter dangerously tight in my fist. Had Phil read this letter? What would I do if he had? The law would claim his life, I realized in horror. As all this mess was my fault alone, it would practically be my job to end it.

Could I do it? Could I kill Phil?

_I went to his father, Billy Black._

_He recognized me from when I was still a young woman. He'd been at my wedding when I married Charlie. And he knew who my daughter was._

_Don't blame him, please. He, too, is only an anxious parent. He could relate to my disquiet and did only what a normal human being would do. He told me some of his tribe's stories._

_My first reaction was disbelief. Bella, you know I have always seen you as a responsible woman with perfectly infallible common sense. That you should run off with a… I can't write it, let alone say it – _vampire_, sounded uncharacteristic to me. My smart, beautiful daughter wouldn't do that. You had a whole future ahead of you! You were not the type to throw it all out of the window!_

_I told Billy just that. "Not my daughter," I said, "She isn't like that."_

_He accepted my denial. He let me walk away._

_That's how I knew he wasn't lying._

_I thought about it for a while. Bella, I am ashamed to admit that I was angry at first. Angry and sad. I was disappointed in your choices, because they weren't the ones I'd always taught you to take. Then I blamed myself – maybe if I'd been more of a mother, you wouldn't have felt the need to rebel against me by marrying a monster. Yes, Bella, a monster. That's what I thought you'd become._

_Nevertheless, I went back to La Push the next day. You see, being a mother is a strange thing (you should know that). Even when I was repulsed by all you were, I still felt the need to learn more about you. I wanted to know how you looked like, how you felt like, how you lived… I was willing to listen to hours of horror stories in order to just learn more about my distanced daughter._

_I'm so sorry, Bella! You aren't the monster here – I am! How could I think all of that rubbish? I know you. If I'd just stopped to think for a minute, I would have fathomed what a fool I was._

_For you, Bella, would never do anything that goes against your morals. I knew that then, but I know it even better now. I apologize._

_Billy showed me a picture of your daughter. She's beautiful. She's perfect. How could you not show me such a lovely grandchild? I must say that I am still a little cross with you for keeping her away from me. (Have I ever thanked your for the name, Bella? Well, here it is: Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.)_

_She has your eyes, you know. And your – our – face. I wish I could meet her personally so I could see just how much she's inherited from our side of the family. Is there any Aunt Maggie in her? Or Grandma Lynn?_

_I hope she has your courage, though. That is the best legacy that she could get from anyone in our family. You are truly one of a kind._

_If you're holding this letter now, my dearest Bella, it means I never got to know her. And still I can't bring myself to be mad._

_I haven't told anyone, rest assured. The envelope has a small circle on the top left corner. If someone has switched it, you won't find it there. I hope I haven't caused anyone any inconvenience, and I hope no one will suffer from what I've learned. Billy told me you might get in some trouble if you found out that I'd known. But I couldn't take the knowledge to my grave. I can only hope that this way the problem has been disposed of in the most natural way (I can't reveal your secrets from heaven, can I?)._

_Smile, my little baby girl. I am not angry at you. I am not repulsed anymore._

_I understand._

_I'll love you for as long as I may grace this world with my presence, and for eternity beyond that!_

_Best regards,_

_Your loving mother  
Renée Dwyer_

_P.S. Is it immature of me to be glad that you've finally given yourself some slack? You've always been so needlessly uptight. I hope the recklessness has done you good._


	4. The Absurdities of Parenthood

**You're getting sadder, getting sadder, getting sadder, getting sadder  
And I don't understand, and I don't understand  
But if I kiss you where it's sore  
If I kiss you where it's sore  
Will you feel better, better, better  
Will you feel anything at all**

_**--Regina Spektor, Better**_

-----

"She knew, Edward," I whispered when he enclosed me in his arms after I'd gotten off the plane. "She knew everything."

My husband looked at me with a very puzzled expression on his face. I smiled at the way his forehead creased in concentration as he tried to decipher the meaning behind the words.

I rose on tiptoe and reached for his ear. My lips gently grazed his earlobe when I whispered, "About me becoming a vampire, love."

Edward drew in a sharp breath and turned to look at me. He scrutinized my expression for a few moments, but seemed to find nothing alarming there for a small smile soon lit up his glum face.

"Is that good or bad?" he asked, confused again as to how he should react.

I laughed out loud and reached for his hand. I purposely kept quiet for a few minutes when we walked out of the busy airport, knowing that every second would make him more and more incensed. I loved these little "silent games" of ours – Edward's exasperated expression was so strangely pleasing to me. Maybe it just served to satisfy my smugness, or then it was simply the excuse it gave me to tease Edward with my hidden thoughts. Either way, I wasn't sure if he enjoyed it as much as me.

Sure enough, by the time we reached the parking lot Edward was glowering. He repeated his question when we climbed into the waiting car.

I waited for the engine to start purring before I gave him the answer.

"It was bad when she was still alive. Good now that she's dead."

Edward raised his eyebrows. I laughed at his expression.

"The problem has been disposed of in the most natural way."

Ducking out of the busy parking lot, Edward considered my response. He clearly couldn't comprehend my sudden mood swing. Well, I couldn't blame him – I could barely understand it myself. The relentless ache in my chest was nothing but an itch now.

"You're incredible," he finally huffed. "And here I am, worried to death about you being miserable! You could have called me, you know. You would have spared me a lot of unrest by telling me you were doing this well."

I laid my hand on his and squeezed it, suddenly feeling horrible for toying with his feelings.

"All the while I thought you were lying in your hotel room, feeling most dejected and forlorn, and felt dreadfully guilty for not being there with you. I really felt wretched, Bella. I thought I was neglecting my duties as a husband."

"I'm sorry," I whispered, truly forlorn _now._ "I didn't mean to worry you. I just had a lot on my mind."

Edward focused his eyes on me. I saw the worry still etched deep in his features, and reached out with my hand to caress his cheek.

"Are you really all right, Bella, or are you only pretending for me?"

I leaned over to kiss him on his nose and smiled when he puckered it as soon as my lips came in contact with is skin.

"You're cute when you're concerned for me."

Edward frowned, and his annoyed expression made me laugh yet again.

"I am really, truly fine, silly!"

He signed, but seemed to accept my response. He turned his eyes back to the road.

"Just tell me one thing," he asked after a few minutes, and I turned to look at him in surprise.

"Anything."

"Why are you suddenly so… so… _calm_?"

I thought about the question for a few seconds. How could I explain it without sounding all too daft?

I finally settled for short and mysterious.

"It's a mother thing. You wouldn't understand."

And as expected, Edward didn't understand. He just shook his head and let the query drop, realizing that I wasn't in the mood for questionnaires. I laughed again as I stroked his cheek, contemplating on whether I would ever bring myself to explain the absurdities of parenthood from a mother's perspective. Would anyone understand? I wasn't too sure.

But there was only one person who mattered.

Renée had understood, and for that I was eternally grateful.


End file.
